


Disillusioned

by Kempai



Series: The City of Amethyst [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Illusions, Implied/Referenced Mental Instability, Light Angst, M/M, POV Third Person, Relationship - Not Established, Romantic Friendship, Slight Datastormshipping, Slight Disastershipping, Slight Firestormshipping, Slight Recoilshipping, Vague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 07:54:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20690072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kempai/pseuds/Kempai
Summary: Wanting to see you, I start imagining thingsIf that blurry is but an illusion, though,I wouldn't be able to see it with my eyes, would I?The night that never dawned, do you remember anything about it?





	Disillusioned

The ringing chains of the days going by—withering and fading into color—is once again looking back at the past, with eyes filled with sorrow. Beyond the heavenly skies, laced with blush carnations and gentle orchids, was the one heart he had. As if falling from the air, the soft colors of nostalgia dusted the raying view of glittered sapphire—wavering delicately with the brush of low hums. Wanting nothing more but to touch it, he reaches out towards the brilliant mother sky in a poor attempt at grasping something he never could feel—it was the one thing that would seemingly dissolve into nothingness if he so did leave a print. Blinded by the light that was supposed to be hidden by fluttering leaves, he narrows his eyes and grunts in annoyance. The open palm had now retracted for the back of his hand to shade his euclased irises. Cool topaz refracted against the soft ice of orbs and he let out a sigh as his shoulders slouch in a quick change of mind. Turning around with his arm sliding back down to his side, he moved into the much more dim and dull space of his lavish living room—connected to the ivory porcelains of his kitchen. Despite being so open, nothing really accompanied the living space other than the necessary furnishings. No longer stinging, his eyes adjusted to the darker area and the flashing of the embedded flatscreen replaced the outside radiance with less damaging illumination. The low mutterings and music from the speaker reverberated just loud enough to reach the sofa. 

“You came back in, does that mean you got cold?” There it was. That sound was ringing out once again, seemingly quaking an uneasy sensation within him just as it flows away. He’s felt it before. He wondered what it may be. 

“It just means I got bored.” He answered plainly. Standing between the space that split the kitchen and living room, he turns his attention to the other. Taking in the slouched form on the couch. His intruder—because that was he was—had somehow came in and made a comfortable spot right in front of the screen. There were times when he’d show up to his private old domain, unannounced, and would do what he’d like. Take some of his food, guzzle his drinks, and rant or complain—mostly about how much he still detested him—but sometimes about school and rent. Ever since he had left upon his boat to the area across the water from his previous place of stay—without so much as a word of where he’s going of course—he had distanced himself from any form of communication with anyone else aside from the four knights and his right-hand man. And yet, here was this guy again. Sitting with his legs up and his hands lazily resting on top of his knees, back hunched with his gaze fixed on the T.V. He was wearing a white, baggy T-shirt and grey sweatpants, obviously sat as cozily as he looked. His green glasses were crooked, probably from never bothering to fix it after waking up and had been in that same spot for who knows how long since he came here—not like he valued being tidy within a home environment. He even went out of his way to steal the comfy shirt and sweatpants from  _ his _ own wardrobe. 

“Oh? Hnn…” He blinked dully at the aired show as he acknowledged the answer with feigned interest. Silence. Moments like this, when it felt like time stopped, it truly felt like such a thing existed. 

“Do you remember the dreams we had as kids?” As if to fill in the empty atmosphere, the T.V viewer had asked randomly. Something had stirred inside him once more. Caught surprised by the lackluster tone that went with an ordinary question, he can only blink while mulling over both his question and an answer. 

“Dreams?” He chose to go for elaboration. He wasn’t quite sure what the other meant or was searching for from him, but he obviously didn’t want to pretend he knew either. For once, he wasn’t spatting about something to his face in light-speed and screeching temper. Rather than pulling his chains, he opted into indulging him by being honest. 

“Yeah, you know, like when you were little? Everyone had some sort of dream or something when they were a kid.” It was apparent by his tone and the tilt of his head that it was a substitute gesture for a shrug—nonchalant about this whole ordeal, maybe all he wanted was to make conversation out of boredom. 

“I suppose so. Why are you iinquiring me about such a thing though?” He pushed for a reason, curious and having felt slightly unstimulated most of the day—this was something to ponder about considering how uneventful his days have been since his run-away decision. Despite so, his attention never lifts up from the other who never even bothered to look his way. 

“When you grow up, you end up forgetting them all.” He says out, almost like he was whispering to himself. Hearing that, something had built up in his throat and he tried swallowing it down. Things were unclear to him. His intruder had been rather immersed within his living space after unexpectedly and confoundedly finding and being able to enter within reserved areas made to be left a mystery. Though he observed him closely without so much as averting away for even a second, he seemed too blurry for something so crisp and vivid to his own eyes. 

“...Homu—” He tried calling out to him, suddenly becoming anxious. But much to his dizzying thoughts, the other male wouldn’t allow him to say his name. 

“At least that’s what I thought.” And there it was, the usually grey gems of Alexandrites had glistened a prominent Amethyst from the T.V’s reflected and flashing lights as he turned his way for the first time since their conversation. Once more, the vision of the sky was painted into his retinas. His shoulders steeped in the lighted shadow. 

“I—What are you getting at here…?” His lips parted in astonishment as he tried to not blink away the captivating image of shining brilliance. He knew that if he did, it would disappear—as insignificant as it is to the world. The vast colors burned into the moment. 

“I’ve always wanted to fly. To fly into the big, blue sky and be free...hehe…” He gave him a lop-sided grin as he tilted his head again, a painfully quiet chuckle half-heartedly left from the vibrating core of his chest and out his throat. Every bit of his fiber being screamed at him for reasons unknown, it all felt wrong to him. Unable to do anything, searching for any answers that never came—he just stood there, not knowing what to do. 

.

.

.

The sound that had been ringing out earlier vanished into the beyond long ago. The murmuring of soft ripples replaced it as it plattered pleasantly under twinkling star drops. The moon’s mirage fluttered against the surface of wavering lands and overlapping it was a trail unlike any other. He memorized its luminescent stains a thousand times, he didn’t need anytime to recognize it. As if it was a shooting star, he also knew of the direction it was heading towards. The one place he left behind in pursuit of a quaint solitaire that spoke of an endless atonement. Regrets and mistakes from the past crept back up onto his fair pores and all he wanted was for it to stop. Time didn’t help end anything, it was proved by the way even those from years ago couldn’t let the incident go. Though, unlike them, the unbroken days that persisted is what causes the frightening younger moments to reappear. Thus for him, time passed by so quietly—it seemed like it might just stop. But it never did—agonizingly, it went on. 

Staring out into the waters, he wondered if he were to close his eyes, would it finally end? He had lost his arms and legs to the rusted memories, surely his eyes should be taken as well. He grinned a little, mused at himself for such thoughts. Of course, not literally. But, just once does he not want to feel tired by the screams of children and the heavy burden of such unforgivable responsibilities he offered to take in his father’s steed. Though it was far away, he could see it. The old place that held nothing but emptiness and loneliness for many years—and it still did. Half-abandoned and unmaintained, it still stood proudly in the distance. Behind it, the artificial fireflies stilled the night and flicker every now and then. Like a fairy-tale, the town was shining. 

In every fairy-tale, there was a witch, wasn’t there? The witch he heard about from long ago, of course, is not in the town anymore. He was no longer in that town, and neither was his father. He released a troubling sigh and the air caught it in a cloudy mist that huffed in reaction to his warm breath. He may not be there, but important things he cherished were. He looked up into the sky from where he was sure it felt like he disappeared to that day. What may have he left behind for the others—he wondered. And since that day, he waited patiently. 

_ ‘Call my name… _ ’ The words that never left his lips and the deepening feeling of apprehensiveness would never be visible to the cool stones of deep violet, would they? Dusk had fallen past showing any reminiscence of the setting sun. Before it vanished behind the hills, his intruder from earlier had spoken up about leaving before night fell. He felt uneasy at remembering it.

_ “I see.” He wanted his name to be called out. The one he knew the other wished to forget, the one he knew would eventually be forgotten. But, it was never said.  _

_ “Goodbye, I have to go.” He watched on as an absent-minded wave was directed towards him along with a half-smile. He made an attempt to move, his left foot pressing forward in hesitation, yet the sliding doors had closed and he could hear the female from the intercom announced the departure. He believed there was time and with a sparking will, pushed his other leg forward in strides. With a reached out hand, his finger-tips brushed against the hopeful button—then with a rushing wind, his whole hand flinched and recoiled in fright at the train moving. His chance—gone.  _

The whites of his knuckles tightened together as he clutched them in seeking self-appeasement of some control. The painted vision of the sky had shown him a dream on this fleeting night. A serene future the world had told him he could still obtain. As if he found the willpower and courage he needed that day, he took hold of it to carry on his wishes on this second chance when he couldn’t last time. Suddenly, with an impulse for clarity and tranquility to his muddled mind, he kicked his legs to move the rest of his body. The moon had lit up the night sky like a lantern and he used that to his advantage as he scurred out of his grand cliffside house, dashing towards the last place where everything around him had stopped and faded. His boat would’ve been faster, but to his displeasure, it was taken upon request the morning of. 

_ ‘Oh, well.’  _ He didn’t have the luxury to complain at the moment. He wanted to change his path to a new future, as the shimmering waters had once again guided him towards a search for leading days of self-forgiveness and self-worth. Not wanting to slow down, he took the risk of potentially tripping and rolling down the annoyingly slanted road. Perhaps he should’ve settled for a normal modern apartment rather than trying to up his ego and arrogance with retaining some semblance of authority and a high-social ranking. He cursed himself silently as he willed himself to continue on. Much like the impeccable timing he’d always have when confronting the opponents he was after within LINK VRAINS, he had leaped into the last train scheduled for tonight. 

The doors had gracefully closed behind him and he bent over in exhilarating exhaustion—knees bent as his hands were firmly pressed against them, he was panting from having to run so fast. Certainly he was lean in real life despite his avatar displaying any assumptions of exposure to countless activities, but physical attributions were different when it came to physical involvements. In short, he was able to run and dodge—perhaps fight a bit if he needed—but he didn’t pose any strength, or any interest of buffing up–he had no interest to do anything but those three essentials. Aftering catching his breath, he leans against one of the poles near the entrance doors with his shoulder as he lazily wraps a hand around for safe measures. The thumping in his head and chest didn’t make the ride comfortable, but he at least had anticipated excitement to distract himself with, thoughts of dreams and hopes scattered in a low flow with gentle intentions. For now, he'll relax in this silent space. 

.

.

.

The train sounded its stop with a ding and as the doors opened, he found everyone else that was on this long and late night ride disbursed separately once they’ve gotten off. Drowsy, he mustered enough strength to follow in their lead and had found him finally onto the station that he marked as his destination. He made his way towards the only direction he knew, not as in a rush as before, but still using hastened steps to take himself wherever. 

_ ‘ _ Where…?’ He glanced around in every direction, alarmed at his own clumsiness. Would he even find what he’s looking for at this time? Most likely not, but he didn’t want to give up his wishful thinking. The lack of business the streets tend to have around this time worked in his favor—this way would be easier for him on his search for the airy amethyst gem. Half-lidded eyes scanned everyone and everything for what may be the object of his weariness and hysteria. His heart felt heavy as his search always came up short, his eyes frantically moved in every direction and his breathing was beginning to quicken. Over and over, he played the same question in his head:  _ Where? _ Dread settled in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t know where the spectacle intruder lived, nor did he know where his tri-colored former enemy was either. Even if he did, would he be able to provide any of the information he needed to get to who he desperately was trying to get a grasp of? Everything around him circled in illuminated blurry visions, the sounds echoed faintly in muffled voices. His whole body felt numb with the realization of his poor self-maintained health and depleting clear mind since his disappearance. He was going to fall until—lavender and sagebrush. An overwhelming smell of earthy floral and spicy bitterness mingled into cold and powdery serenity. The unmistakable scent heightened him with such an anxiety-reducing property that he felt the swirling winds of liviness come back to him—taking his labored breath away with tranquil sweetness. 

He balanced his footing so he can shake away the fatigue and distress, finding strength once more to continue on his venture. He picked up the pace again and followed the direction of the scent, determined to not allow it to disappear within the annoyingly chilly air like parted clouds. He kept on until he saw the defining object of life right in front of him. Dull whites of chiffon adorned with highlights of candy red appeared before him, facing the same direction as he was and increasing the distance that stood between one another. His eyes widened a little in surprise to see the person once again—and at his triumphant in the unknowingly-played game of hide and seek. He blinked, letting the image of a profiled smile flash for a brief second to capture it in his mindful data collection. Whatever was happening, he seemed happy. He followed the attention his usually grey-blues—sometimes purple depending on the lighting—was looking at. And it all made sense. In his company was the old enemy and other former victim. Impassed to the inaudible conversation, they humored him with attentiveness as they followed along in his walking pace. His shoulders slumped. 

‘Where are you going…?’ He finally had the will to see him once more after he left, yet he stood still in doubt and hesitated on going up to him. Even so, he was here now and he didn’t want the other to just leave before his eyes again. He pushed back the lump in his throat as he reached a shaky and unsure hand out. The sight was rather perplexing to him. Earlier in the day all the way up to the greeting of dusk, he had worn the same unembellished expression throughout. Neither smiling nor frowning. He didn’t wear his usual scowl and there had been no tears. And yet he was joyous at the moment. As if today had been a great day. As if he never had visited. The very sight overcame him with such an irrational itch. 

“Take—”

Before he could even grasp what was happening, he dashed towards the two and firmly placed his hand on-top of the four-eyed hot-head’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Flinching at the sudden contact and turning on his heel after being abruptly stopped, the captive's widened eyes blinked in bewilderment. The company next to him had also stopped and taken the opportunity to turn around and glance at what might have been an unwanted extra to their two-person person. Through emeralds, he was recognized easily and the tri-colored male tilted his head curiously, opting to say nothing while the other stammered about. 

“E-Eh?!” Lost in everything that came to him in profound speed, he digested what was in front of him. A stupefied and panting individual. Linens of white dusted with grazing blues, and peering in disillusion with softened crystals. It clicked. 

“You—What do you want,  _ Revolver? _ ’ His eye twitched a little as his brows furrowed, his face twisted in glowering disgust. The tired male almost doubled over, taken aback by the way he was addressed as and the reaction he stirred. Greens flashed between the two of them, examining and trying to decipher everything. 

“I-I….I—” What could he say? The truth? Surely that’ll stir up even more trouble considering the puzzling way the other was acting around him. Perhaps it was due to his company, but he doubted having anyone else he knew around mattered any bit. If he felt strongly opinionated on something or someone, he was sure to be vocal and expressive about it—facially and physically. Something seemed wrong, terribly wrong, and he didn’t want to make anything worse.

“Ryoken, I didn’t expect to see you back so soon.” He averted his eyes away from the scowl he never thought he’d see again—his usually cool and aloof self wavering like a dim candle in front of his ex-enemy. He tried to pick himself back up again, straightening his shoulders and keeping his chin up. With how he presented himself, at least that’ll give him a false pretense of high self-esteem and a confident sharpness . 

“Playmaker. I wasn’t expecting myself to be back either.” He followed up just as dull as the other. The glasses wearer of the trio huffed, stomping a foot as he pointed an accusing finger in his direction. 

“Oi, don't go tip-toeing around things! Just get to the point. Why are you here anyways? I thought you were supposed to be serving time or something!” He retorted, squinting his eyes in suspicion. “I don’t think running off on a boat after a ‘farewell’ is gonna cut your sentence! So if there's a reason you're showing our face here again, say it!” He was loud, abrasive and definitely still as resentful as when they first met. 

“If you’re here, then that means something’s come up. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary in VRAINS, but perhaps you’ve found something that could lead to a new enemy. Or maybe something that will affect the real world specifically”. Ignoring his tempered friend, the tri-colored hero went on to make a point across to release any details pertaining to any possible new threats. That, and not wanting to get caught in the crossfire between the two white-haired duelists. Ryoken brought his attention back to the other white-haired male, his lips where thin-pressed and afflicting despondency reflected against his irises. The red-streaked four-eyes' contorted face softened and he looked on at the the one known as Revolver with uncertain confusion. 

“....No, I just happened to be around and saw you and...Soulburner.” That was Ryoken’s simple answer. His face betrayed nothing as his eyes tried to hide away a melancholic heaviness, his voice faltered in an abnormal and unusual manner—so uncharacteristic for someone such as him. He had to catch himself from saying Soulburner's real name—first and last, respectfully. 

"I suppose you can say I came here on a whim." 

"A whim? I see. Though, you seem rather unpleasantly anxious about somethi–"

"You came back here for nothing? Seriously? Then why don't you take this time to turn yourself in! You still haven't taken full responsibility after that whole tower thing! You endangered Yusaku the whole time, even after showing compassion and giving you a chance for redemption. How dare you do that to him! And–And….And…." And your father still hasn't paid for what he's done to me and the other kids, not fully. Is what he wanted to say, but the words never left his lips. It was apparent by the sudden dimming desire to convict and accuse the other he normally would scorch so easily with flare. His shoulders slumped and his head hung down, tearing dull orbs away to face the ground surely. Ryoken watched on, noticing the hand clenching a bag strap so tightly, that calloused fingers have gotten white. 

"You're right." The words trembled out in a deafeningly quiet somber. He had been right since their duel back then. He still hadn't taken full responsibility for anything he caused, nor paid the price his father owed. While that may not be on him, he had burdened himself with the promise to fill in his neglectful father's steps and take everything he had on his shoulders after his death. It was a pledge and he wanted to keep that true to the end. Soulburner's eyes glanced up at him in wonder and shock. Their nonplussed mutual acquaintance had closed his eyes in contemplation, humming silently to himself before allowing his lids to open again to view the scene with keen observation. 

"All I did was vanish without truly atoning for anything. I had believed at that time, my willful solitary confinement in some other city not too far away would make up for my deeds. But all I did was flee; ran from my promised duty and hid away while thinking being alone was enough." It made sense to him at that time. Surely he would’ve lived a similar emptiness the victims had, if not the same painful experience. They had been taken from their families, locked away in a four-white-walled space with no interaction from anyone or anything else but a VR set and a heli-tray. Didn’t he get his just deserved by also living off in an equivalent way? No, because it wasn’t the same. That was years ago, he was trying to live the way they did but only now—at the state where someone his age would be able to tolerate the isolation. They were around six then not sixteen or eighteen. Taken from their families—he would have never felt that the way they did. After returning, most of them weren’t able to see their parents since their abduction. They may have become orphaned, maybe forgotten, and then… _ an accident while being searched for… _

Even if they saw relatives—families—he had to take into account that they were never the same. Developing post-traumatic disorders; closing their hearts off, distrusting others, phobias arising, strong negative desires for revenge and darkened minds—things caused by the accident that he, himself, never had to endure or know. Though his father may have disappeared into the skies above—and while he was neglectful to his own son at times—he didn’t necessarily disregard him all together either. He had felt a familial affection when his father wasn’t obsessed with his work, something he was sure some of the victims had missed—specifically the ones he knew as Playmaker and Take— _ Soulburner _ . And not to mention the therapy they received, he didn’t really need it even after witnessing the horrible screams from other kids. But, he did what he needed to at that time, even if he didn’t understand it—he freed them. But, was it enough? Playmaker may have been too forgiving for someone that had dealt with mental and emotional baggage on his shoulders for ten years because of what his father did, but the other was on another kind of resentment. As expressive as he was and kind-hearted in many aspects, he didn’t hold the same standards or shared the same agreements as his company. Neither was he as educationally inclined as any of the other victims, yet he seemed to understand the reasons Ryoken couldn’t forgive himself, and why believed he can’t be forgiven so easily either—as compared to the tri-haired victim. 

“There are some things you can’t understand, Revolver. Even if you weren’t a participant in the project, that doesn’t excuse you from being your father’s accomplice during the destruction of VRAINS…” Soulburner averted his eyes towards the ground again, sounding smaller than he admitted to being sometimes. Playmaker’s lips parted as he surveyed them, wanting to say something, but immediately closed them into a thin-press. It seemed he had come to the conclusion that he shouldn’t be a part of this conversation at all, not even as an audience. He had forgiven Ryoken, moved on from the events of his dreaded past, and his heart had opened more than he ever thought it would. Things therapy could never have accomplished—as much as he wished it did when he was younger. He had those he was more than happy to admit were his friends and was even slightly protective of his “accident pal”. Since the Tower of Hanoi and the many experiences he had shared with the two close to him at the moment, he was grateful for the ability to allow himself emotions for the first time since before his abduction. The calm and collected male mentally huffed to himself at this situation. Many times over had he tried to convince the white-haired hot-head to give Ryoken a chance, but to no avail. It became his presumption that it was best if he worked it out himself with the ex-enemy. 

“...Are you suggesting that I have interpreted my intentions of compensating for such events wrongly?” He couldn’t comprehend entirely what it was Soulburner was trying to tell him. He needed to pay for his crimes, but yet he was also admitting that there weren’t any crimes for him to pay. 

“Ugh, no! And I thought I was the stupid here…” Soulburner slapped his palm against his forehead in annoyance, allowing his fingers to intertwine with his red-streaked strands as he pushes them back lazily. “All I’m saying is that whatever your dad did wasn’t something you have to answer to...You only owe time for your own actions, dude. I don’t think your father wants you to pay for something he already,  _ somewhat _ paid for and was his doing…” Retracting his hand from his head, they slid down his arm bashfully as he avoids contact altogether. It was clear he wasn’t going to look at him right now for reasons unknown. 

“It’s late already. We should get going. Oh, and Ryoken, take care of yourself. It was nice seeing you again.” Playmaker decides to cut in, placing a hand on Soulburner’s shoulder as their eyes meet in a mutual comprehension. Despite the events becoming a thing of the past, he was still adequately protective over Soulburner’s well-being, something the other didn’t mind. After the gesture, he makes the effort of distancing himself from them, allowing them some time to themselves to finish this up. Ryoken needlessly nodded with acknowledgment, not saying anything because he couldn’t think of anything to say. The two white-haired acquaintances watched on as Playmaker’s back furthered away from them. Making sure he wasn’t too far, but at least far enough, Soulburner peeks up at Ryoken with an uncharacteristic timidness to his expression.

“So...what will it be? While you tend to live up to your promises, you always avoid this one...Are you going to keep your word this time…?” He asked hesitantly. His shoulders raised while his chin seemed to be slightly tucked against his chest—he seemed uncomfortable and small when discussing this with Ryoken. And he got like this everytime. 

“I concur. This time, I will not hide away.” Ryoken assured him promptly. Seeing him like this stirred a strange squeezing sensation within his ribcage and it had tingled ever so slightly at all of Soulburner’s unsure meekness. His words perked the other up in a way he hoped it did. Glinting with hope within the amethyst of amicable auroras, his gaze glistened at the target of his wrath with a bafflingly expectancy. 

“I’m glad you understand. Well, I better catch up to Yusaku before he ends up leaving me in the dust, haha! Uhh, and try to take care of yourself...I may still resent you but I don’t exactly like seeing you waste away from your own self-negligence. It’s actually a little painful to see that...It seems too lonely for even someone like you…A-Anyways, maybe the next time we meet, we might be in equal ends. Later!” With a cheeky smile, Soulburner waved him off as he turns around, dashing towards the direction his buddy Playmaker went as the disbursing crowd hid him away from sight. The scent of earth and heavenly smoke slowly dissipated along with him. And he took something else, too. 

“I will live up to my word...So, please visit me…” Though Soulburner’s back was turned, he waved back half-elated. He was thankful that he couldn’t be seen, nor heard. The topaz of faded skies drowned in tiny stars of streaks, hanging from the corners of porcelain. Adorning the sunken cheeks of hollow was a painful smile. Without muttering a single question of the confounding notice he had scrutinized the two under his unwavering gaze, was something he had wished to have never seen. They both wore their school uniforms, completing the look with their essential school bag. He wondered to himself if Soulburner ever went to school that day. Perhaps it was a late start, maybe he skipped a couple classes. But if that was the case, surely the other would’ve mentioned his abnormal absence and the strange behavior Ryoken retained around the supposed-school-ditcher. 

If it were about the many seasons passing by, then indeed, they have been surfacing within his distant memories. Memories he had been hiding in some part inside of him that no one knows about. Now, he knew of how cruel the world can be—and how cruel it continues to be, increasing it’s malicious intent on punishing him for his actions. Just now learning of the lies that were within this madly spinning world, he can’t possibly go on living all on his own like this…

_ Wanting to see you, I start imagining things.  _

He can hear it. The sound traveling all the way to the beyond. Once again, the visions of painted skies flashing reflected in his irises. The words that have been left unsaid and his deepening subdued feelings probably went unnoticed by the gems of violet—he wondered. 

_ If that blurry figure is but an illusion, though, _

_ I wouldn’t be able to see it with my eyes, would I? _

His shoulders steeped at the lighted shadow that flickered above him. Beyond the brilliant skies, laced with midnight clouds and gentle shadows, was the one heart he had. 

_ That night that never dawned, do you remember anything about it? _

**Author's Note:**

> I have many ideas so this may be part of a series. I didn't turn it into a multi-fic, nor do I plan on doing so, because this is where I feel it should be left at as. 
> 
> Will probably get lots of debates about if Revolver should be put into jail or not. Logically and rationally, it makes sense. Emotionally and sympathetically, his anti-hero act does him justice. I don't want to have agreement or disagreement arguments so let's just leave it at that;; Whether or not Takeru's resentment and "lock him up in jail" opinion will be referenced or heavily influenced within future works is something I have to think about haha. 
> 
> Reviews would be greatly appreciated. It's nice to know if my writing is something people like or not, constructive criticism is appreciated as well since it helps me grow. Moreover, I would like to do a writing collab with someone on any Yu-Gi-Oh! story, offered beta-readers are something I'd like as well if anyone is willing! 
> 
> That's all I have to say, so I hope you liked my story. Let me know if you want to know what happened before all this or what happens after. Until next time.
> 
> Milk boi, out


End file.
